


No-Win Scenario

by Annehiggins



Series: Bring It On (Bito) [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:26:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annehiggins/pseuds/Annehiggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Shields down, weapons depleted, enemy closing in – all Jim could do was surrender and pray.</i> A look at the movie and its aftermath through the lens of Jim and Bones being in a sexual relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No-Win Scenario

**Author's Note:**

> Posted to Live Journal May 24, 2009 with the following note: I grew up on the original Trek. By that I mean I was in the age group Chekov was created for and I crushed on him appropriately. Flash forward a few decades and Scotty caught my eye, but I never did crush on Kirk or Spock. When I discovered slash, I liked the idea of and could utterly see K/S, even read and enjoyed some of it -- but the visual just didn't work for me so the writing bug never bit for TOS fandom.
> 
> Flash forward to the last couple of Fridays spent in the movie theaters and I've finally discovered the slashy goodness of on-screen chemistry coupled with the eye-candy my shallow soul longed for and this fic was born. (All hail Karl and Chris!) Still, I thought it only appropriate to give a nod to K/S of old.
> 
> Added note: Since I wrote the Bring It On series, someone else also wrote a series by that name. They are not related.

  
**No-Win Scenario**  
By Anne Higgins

James T. Kirk absolutely, positively believed in the no-win scenario. After all, one had murdered both his parents. A pragmatist might argue that only George Kirk had actually died with the USS Kelvin, but no one who knew Winona Kirk both before and after her husband's death would argue. Of course nothing of the sort was ever said around her son, but he'd overheard things about a vivacious young woman with a bright easy smile.

He couldn’t remember his mother ever really smiling. At least not a face-splitting smile full of laughter that seemed to have once been common for her. Mostly he saw pain. People constantly told him he looked like his father, and photos backed them up. Took him a few years of growing up to get it. She looked at him and saw loss, not her son. And sometimes Jim knew that even though his mother loved him, she hated him, too. Not just because he constantly reminded her of George Kirk, but because his birth had prevented her from escaping the shuttle and dying with her husband. Except she had. Died with him.

She seemed more like a kind, but sad ghost than flesh, vanishing in and out of his life for months, then years at a time, dumping him on her brother, Frank, who'd had too many issues of his own to deal well with Jim's constant acting out. Once Jim had turned seventeen, she'd signed up for a five-year tour of duty aboard a starship. He hadn't seen her this side of a vid screen since.

It left him as he'd pretty much always been – well-provided for and on his own. So while she racked up a respectable if undistinguished record of service in Starfleet, Jim turned his attention to perfecting his career as … "the only genius level repeat offender in the Midwest."

Which brought him to the latest in a long, long, long series of bars; his face busted up and his blood alcohol level high, but not as high as he would have liked for a conversation with Captain Christopher Pike. Pike said things no one other than drunken ex-step fathers had. Except he said them sober and with an even tone instead of a drunken bellow meant to wound. It … irritated the fuck out of Jim, and he was giving vague consideration to seducing the bastard just to shut him up, when Pike said the funniest damned thing Jim had ever heard, "Your father didn't believe in the no-win scenario."

If his face hadn't been so sore, Jim would have laughed himself sick. Instead he snorted and muttered about Dad sure learning his lesson. 

Pike looked at him for a moment, then said something no one else ever had. "Depends on how you define winning." Startled by the idea – although he'd be damned before he showed it – Jim sat still and let him talk. Course the free booze didn't hurt in keeping his interest either. Even then, the talk proved tedious, so he cut it off fast.

The captain seemed to accept his defeat gracefully, but his parting shot proved memorable as well. "Your father was captain of a starship for 12 minutes. He saved 800 lives including your mother's. And yours. I dare you to do better."

For hours after Jim had left the bar, he rode around on his motorcycle. Part of his mind mocked the other – how could something as childish as a dare make him finally think about something more than a life of chasing after the next brawl, the next one-night stand? Nothing new going on here, man, move on. _Depends on how you define winning._

This was fucking nuts! He _hated_ Starfleet! It had murdered his father and had given his mother an excuse to spend most of his life half-a-galaxy away. Yet here he sat, staring out at the Riverside Shipyard and the starship taking form in the center of all that light. It occurred to him she'd be ready right around the time he'd graduate from Starfleet Academy, and for the first time he let himself see possibilities instead of a symbol for all his pain.

Maybe it made more sense to go for dying in a blaze of heroic glory, than to drink himself to death or wait for a jealous whatever to do the job for him. Maybe his life was one big cosmic joke of a no-win scenario. Maybe if he kept his head and avoided his mother's mistake, he could always find a way out.

He never got closer to making a conscious decision. Instead when dawn broke, he revved up his bike and headed toward, not away from the shipyard gates. He approached Pike's shuttle wondering if he would one day owe the man a thank you or a punch in the nose, and avoided both with a cocky comment about making captain in three years. 

Cocky worked for him, so he kept the attitude going as he smirked his hellos to both the lovely Uhura and her 'rescuers' from last night. But Jim was a flexible kind of guy, so he joined the rest of the passengers in bemusement as the attendant all but man-handled a scruffy looking man out of the restroom and into the seat next to Jim. Hard to believe, but the guy appeared to have had an even rougher night than Jim had. Kind of good-looking though, under the scruff.

Good-looking, but scruffy focused on him, then announced, "I may throw up on you." As an opening line, it was memorable.

*

Dr. Leonard McCoy threw his duffle on the bed nearest the window and smiled slightly at the room he'd be calling home, sweet home for the next three years. For the first time since his ex-wife had demanded a divorce, something had gone right, and he'd been assigned a single room. He glanced at the bed closer to the door and his smile grew as he corrected himself -- a nice, spacious double-room without the annoyance of a roommate.

Somehow in the clusterfuck that was his life, he'd managed to get lucky by being the last person to apply to then be admitted to Starfleet Medical. Everyone else had already been assigned a roommate which left him in blissful solitude. He stripped out of his clothes and headed into the refresher to deal with the aftermath of last night's 'what the fuck have I done?' bender. Sonic shower, shave and a change into his cadet uniform, helped restore his balance enough to bring a blush to his face. He'd made a fool of himself in the shuttle. No two ways about it.

But he'd chosen focusing on a mild, if perfectly reasonable fear of flying to avoid thinking about the abrupt 180 only an incredibly acrimonious divorce could turn a life. Thank God that kid had been there to distract him or he'd probably have caused an incident that would have gotten him kicked out of the Academy before he'd even set foot in it.

He walked across the small commons separating the medical dorm from the Academy Hospital, and reported to his shift supervisor. Hours later he returned to his room mentally exhausted and physically wound up. A morning spent listening to general orientation and an afternoon of the same song with a slightly different verse at the hospital had left him certain the many deaths by outer space he'd listed in the shuttle were infinitely better than death by boredom.

"Hey, roomie welcome home!" a cheerful voice announced once the door slid closed behind him.

"The hell?"

Jim Kirk smirked at him from the previously 'not to be claimed' bed. He had the disturbingly casual look of someone here to stay. "Turns out we have one of the largest incoming classes in Academy history," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Also turns out the only bed left in the whole place was in the medical dorms, so," he spread his arms wide, "here I am."

Some things bore repeating so Leonard gave in, "The hell?"

Jim laughed. "Don't sweat it, roomie. We'll have a great time."

His eyes narrowed. He knew Jim's type – roomed with a version back at Ole Miss, hell he _had_ been a version -- and was too old to go through that again. "Not in the room."

"What?"

"No … booty calls in the room."

He'd expected a fight, or denials about being that sort of guy, but Jim shrugged. "Fine by me. I prefer to do the leaving anyway."

Ah, more of a one-hour than a one-night stand kind of guy. Well, that was the ladies' problem, not his. He thought about a lot more rules, but Jim had gone all quiet, like someone waiting to get yelled at or thrown out even though Leonard didn't have the slightest right to do either to him. He sighed. "Come on, kid. I need a drink."

Jim grinned and bounced off the bed. "Now that's what I'm talkin' about!"

He rolled his eyes, already certain he would graduate with the strongest eye muscles in Academy history.

*

Man could hold his booze. Jim always admired that in a sentient being, and when McCoy finished his fourth whiskey without looking all glowy-eyed, Jim decided this housing arrangement might have merits. Yeah, McCoy was all right. Hmm. Jim frowned. Not gonna be one of those guys always calling their roommate by last names. Bad enough he couldn't get Uhura to tell him her first name, but maybe it was something fucking awful like Leonard. He sniggered, then downed his sixth shot. "Not calling you McCoy," he announced his decision.

An eyebrow arched and man, oh, man was that ever fucking sexy. He gave himself a shake. "Don't like Leonard either."

That got him an eye roll, which was sexy, too. Just not as. Sexy. "Imagine my dismay."

And sarcasm. Jim liked sarcasm. Made his toes tingle and everything. "Not a Leo either."

"That would be why everyone calls me Leonard."

Jim made a rude noise, then signaled the bartender for another shot. "Like calling me James. All formal and stick-up-the-assish."

"'Assish?'" McLeonard echoed, then, to Jim's utter annoyance, he waved off the bartender. But then he threw down a couple of bills to cover the check, so that was all right. If pushy. But Jim could kinda get to like that, too. "Making up words is a clear sign it's time to head home."

Jim decided he didn't want to and vowed not to be moved. Which was why he was kind of surprised when he blinked and found himself out in the parking lot, all nice and draped over Len's right side, his own arm drawn across the man's broad shoulders to help keep Jim upright. "How'd we get out here?" he demanded, then pouted when he found it too dark to clearly see another eye roll.

Mac, McLen, Lenny, McSexy, LenCoy snorted. "Next time, I cut you off after four."

"Hey, I can hold my booze!"

"Right."

Jim shifted, moving his growing erection away from McStupidName. Wouldn't do at all to pop a boner before he knew how whozit stood on the whole mano-on-mano thing. Hmm. Boner? No, couldn’t get away with that. Wait a minute, back on the shuttle he'd said something about the ex getting everything but his bones. And wasn't that some sort of historical name for docs? "That's it!" he shouted in triumph almost overbalancing both of them.

"Damnit, Jim!" Bones growled and that so worked!

"I'm gonna call you Bones!" he announced.

"Sure, right, whatever, just pick up your fucking feet," Bones answered in that 'humor the drunk' tone that indicated he thought Jim would forget all about it by morning.

"Never forget nothin'."

"Except, apparently, the rule against double negatives."

Jim scowled. "I'm a rule breaker! Starfleet needs guys like me!"

"Right."

To punish him for his doubts, Jim sang _Dem Dry Bones_ all the way home.

*

Jim Kirk turned out to be a surprisingly good roommate. He helped keep the room picked up, confined his stuff to his part of the room, and was a master of slipping in at 3 a.m. without making a sound loud enough to wake Leonard up. On the other hand, he was a spectacular pain in the ass in the best friend side of the equation.

First there was the whole 'Bones' thing. Everyone else in the entire universe was content to call him McCoy, Leonard, Dr. McCoy or hey, you, but oh, no, that wasn't good enough for James Tiberius Kirk. He had to go slap a ridiculous nickname on him, like Leonard was a new puppy instead of a grown man, let alone three years older than the irresponsible brat. Then there was the knowing that no matter what they did or where they went, the evening would always end up in a brawl or with Jim ditching him to go home with some pretty thing. Sometimes both.

Worse were nights like this when the rotten best friend usurped the good roommate (the reason he'd never be a great roommate), and Jim came home all bleeding and battered on a night when the fucking moron knew Leonard had exams to study for. "Why you can't just stick to pretty things on finals week. …" he muttered while running a tricorder scan over the bruised landscape of Jim's face.

"What?" the source of his ire asked.

"I said there are better fighting styles than letting someone beat you until they drop from exhaustion."

Jim smirked, then winced when it reopened his split lip, and one would seriously have thought the boy would've figured out not to do that by now. "Aww, Bones, you wound me."

"Not as much as I'd like to," he snapped. "And so help me if you say, 'you should see the other guy,' I'll practice old-fashioned suturing on you – with a needle and thread."

Jim shuddered, but the amusement in his eyes proved he wasn't taking the threat seriously. "Now, Bones, you know you love me."

There were several scathing replies he could make – all of them true – but he knew Jim had issues with abandonment, so he clenched his jaw and settled on scowling. After a moment he sighed, then pulled out the proper skin sealing tool and set about fixing Jim's face so he'd be all nice and pretty for the next fist headed his way. And what did it say about Jim that after only four months at the Academy, Leonard had resorted to keeping a set in their room? "How is it again they haven't pitched you out on your irresponsible, trouble-making ass?"

Jim made a show of contemplating the question, then answered, "Because I passed the test in two hours?"

Fucking egotist. What made it worse was the utter truth of the statement. Every cadet had to pass a grueling battery of tests to gain admittance to the Academy. Most took two days to slog through them. Leonard had done it in one. Jim in two hours. One for the record books. At least that one could go into the books. His attempts to get into a fist fight with half the campus and fuck his way through the other would probably reach galactic, let alone Academy record status, but no one would think it a suitable entry in the official history of the place. "Yes, yes, you're fucking brilliant. The brightest star they've ever seen. So how about using some of that genius to avoid picking up girls with jealous boyfriends?"

"Wasn't about a girl," Jim answered, completely ignoring the common sense behind the statement. One of these days, Leonard was going to kill him himself.

"Fine, avoid the hulking companions of the pretty boys, too."

"Closer, but still cold."

Fuck! Should have figured Jim would be the type to want things rough. Man liked his extremes too much. "Then pick the goddamned hulks who just want to fuck you, not bust you up as foreplay!"

Blue eyes regarded him through a veil of eyelashes, and Leonard found himself trying not to squirm. "Okay," Jim said.

Okay? Since when did Jim ever agree to anything that was good for him and for Leonard's sanity? "You just said 'okay.'"

Jim nodded.

Leonard's brain began the process of calling up some cliché about hell having finally frozen over, when it seized up and a coldness swept through him. "Damnit, Jim, did he …" his voice stuttered to a stop, unable to voice the word. He was a doctor, he should be able to discuss any condition with anyone, but this wasn't only his friend, this was a young man rapidly becoming the very best friend he'd ever had. He swallowed, then stumbled on with, "Hurt you?"

Jim looked caught between touched and amused. "No," he answered. "I won the fight." Apparently it had been a close enough thing to turn a usual 'Bones, you worry too much' to an 'okay.'

He leaned in so his forehead pressed gently against his roommate's. Leonard wanted to launch into a lecture about how Jim was valued here, that people noticed him and he didn't need to keep doing all sorts of crazy shit to get people to see him. He knew that would result in his needing to fix his own split lip, so he settled for, "Jesus, Jim, you've got to be more careful."

Jim tilted his head slightly so his breath was a warm puff of air against Leonard's lips. "Okay."

Oh, crap. Apparently they'd reached the inevitable moment in the life of a sex junkie like Jim when best friends had to transform into best friends with benefits. Leonard supposed he should be grateful Jim had let him get beyond the pain of his divorce before going all seductive on him. Oh, hell, who was he kidding? Getting past that pain had more to do with Jim than he even cared to think about. He sighed. No way did he want to move into this new frontier stone-cold sober. "I need a drink."

Jim smiled. "Good idea."

*

**Three Years and the Fate of Two Planets Later**

Jim prowled around the area in front of the administration building. He'd been summoned to a closed-session of the council to resolve the matter of his academic probation. Unfortunately he had two hours more to wait before his scheduled moment of truth. Should have stayed in the room, but it was far too empty. Bones was in the middle of his hospital shift – more accurately the middle of the second half of a double shift. Be lucky if he didn't have to pull a triple given the sudden lack of doctors.

So many dead. Except for those lucky enough to draw duty aboard the _Enterprise_ – and even then not everyone had made it – every single member of his class was dead. The largest incoming class in Academy history would be its smallest graduating class. Made the campus a somber place in these last few weeks of the term. The main commons seemed almost deserted with nothing more than a handful of cadets passing through to note his pacing from one side of a small grassy area to the other. Place should have been full of laughter and moans about upcoming finals, but everyone was either in mourning or respecting the grief of others.

Made Jim feel both petty and furious. Petty because he was worried about his own fate in the face of such overwhelming loss, and furious because he had to. He'd saved the fucking planet and they still wanted to rake his ass over the coals because he'd refused to concede defeat to that fucking _Kobayashi Maru_ test. Far as he was concerned the same mind set that had led him to hack the test had kept this planet in one piece, so what the hell was the problem?

Bones had tried to help him stay calm – or at least as much as he could via a series of rushed communicator conversations. Had told him they probably just wanted to tell him that they were dropping the matter and 'hey, heck of a job there, hotshot' so chill the fuck out. And it had all made sense when Bones had said it, but when he couldn't hear the man's voice, doubt set in.

When Jim had found himself debating the merits of getting drunk in the room or going out to find a bar with some brawl-ready customers, he'd put on his best cadet uniform and headed off to his appointment. Which left him here, stalking around like some crazed fool, but at least he was a sober, unbruised one. He sighed. Bones might call it a sign he was finally getting some sense, but Jim found it damned annoying.

He wanted to call Bones again, perfectly content with the knowledge he'd yell at Jim for interrupting him, but at the same time it seemed so fucking pathetic. Besides, he knew how overworked Bones was and didn't really want to add to his problems. True and noble sentiments, but he'd just about reached the point where he really didn't give a damn about either when he spotted the gray-dressed figure walking out of the administration building.

Part of him wanted to run, but the rest said he didn't run from battles -- even when he should – and he hurried over in time to intercept the Vulcan Ambassador at the bottom of the steps.

"Jim," Ambassador Spock said, clearly pleased to see him. And how the hell had Jim gone from never having more than casual conversations with occasional Vulcans to knowing when they were happy? "How are you, old friend?"

"Can we talk?" he asked, then flinched. Never been in a conversation that had started with those words and ended well.

"Certainly," he said, gesturing for Jim to walk with him. "In truth I expected you to seek me out before this."

A pang of guilt almost made him flinch again. The _Enterprise_ had limped back to the Starbase four days ago and was still undergoing repairs. Not truly assigned to her and not an engineer or a construction worker who could work on her, he had no more to do than any other cadet with end of term so close. Which would have been a lot for any other graduating class, but the survivors of this one had been declared 'all requirements met with honors and ready for graduation.' Except apparently he still had some hoops to jump through. And pissed off as that made him, he'd jump through as many as they liked if they'd just let him serve aboard _Enterprise_. Although how he'd handle taking another captain's orders. … "Sorry, I've been hanging around with Scotty." Closest he could get to feeling useful and there he was right back at pathetic.

Spock nodded. "I suspected as much. I, too, feel the pull to walk her hallways and see her wounds healed."

Fairly poetic. Especially for a Vulcan. But typical for Spock. Jim closed his eyes for a moment and drew in a slow breath. "I … saw more than what happened with Nero."

"It was inevitable. A thought transfer can never be completely controlled, and I was not at my best."

Yeah, fit with what he'd read about it after they'd gotten back to Earth. "We. …" he stopped himself, swallowed softly. To make it easier, he'd quickly taken to referring to Ambassador Spock and Spock as if they were the same person, but they weren't. And Jim sure wasn't, didn't know if he'd ever could be, the man the Ambassador had known. "You were lovers."

The Ambassador nodded. "It was a part of our relationship, yes."

"But not an important part?"

It took him a moment to answer, then he said, "It was important to me, because it was important to him." He glanced at him in a way that made Jim want to think 'rueful smile.' "The highly sexual nature of James T. Kirk seems to be a common factor in both timelines. For me, our passion for one another was fulfilled in the meeting of our minds."

Jim got it. Ambassador Spock got off by mind melding with his Captain. Oh, God. "We had sex?" he sort of squeaked, demanded and accused all at that same time. He hadn't fucked with another male since Bones had bedded him early in their first year. The idea that he'd broken a trust Bones probably wasn't even aware of upset him.

"Such was not my intent. A mind meld can be as casual as a handshake."

Right. Spock had used it on the Romulan to gain information. Nothing sexy about that.

"However, echoes of its more intimate use obviously spilled into our link."

Not what Jim wanted to hear. "Damnit, I'm not yours!" he hissed, stopping in his tracks, his fists clenched. "I never will be!" Anguish entered his voice, "Bones!"

Somehow it triggered his communicator, and a tired voice answered, "What is it now, Jim?"

"Sorry," he turned away from the Ambassador. He had to bite his lip to keep from begging Bones for forgiveness. Which would have probably made Bones fall on his ass laughing. Of all the shit Jim had put the man through, falling into a cesspool of regret over an offense he hadn't known he was committing and one that had helped save them all had a certain ridiculousness to it that let him get hold of himself. Damn, Bones was good. Even without trying, he could get Jim settled down. He cleared his throat, "I mentioned you to Ambassador Spock and my stupid communicator activated."

There was a silence, then, "You're with the Ambassador?"

"Yeah, had a few things to talk to him about before the Inquisition meets."

"Jim, don't borrow trouble." The grumble made Jim quickly rethink how funny Bones might find the idea of accidental mind-sex echo. And no way was Jim going to try to stumble through an explanation of that anyway.

He decided to play it light. "Me? Never!" Made him smile slightly to think of the colossal eye roll that must have earned.

"Damnit, Jim," Bones sighed, then he cleared his own throat. "Look, we finally got some relief doctors in. Should get me kicked loose by dinner. We'll go out and celebrate your reinstatement."

Jim grinned at both the thought of the company and the clear message behind Bones' raising his voice enough to make certain the Ambassador heard. Took everything Jim had not to ask if Bones had just marked him like some dog pissing on its favorite tree. "Great! See you back at the room, then."

"Right," he answered, then signed off.

"Fascinating," Ambassador Spock said, prompting Jim to turn back around to face him. "You are involved with Doctor McCoy."

Jim nodded. "Roommate, best friend and part-time lover." Normally he wouldn't offer up the details so quickly, but he needed to distance himself from this Vulcan. And Bones seemed the way to do it.

"Interesting. I wonder what it is about this timeline that led to you and the doctor being at the Academy at the same time."

"We weren't in yours?"

"No, none of us met prior to your becoming captain of the _Enterprise_ ," he answered. "And the doctor did not join the crew immediately."

So the other Jim had known Spock first – but not at the Academy – and he hadn't had a deep friendship with Bones in place before they met. Some of the inevitability he feared eased up. "Were you ever involved with Uhura?"

The Ambassador's eyebrow arched. "Fascinating. No, Jim, you were. One of your post-Acadamy dalliances that ended well."

That fit. She got involved with Spock because he was at the Academy so she didn't get involved with him. But none of them had been here together in the Ambassador's timeline, leaving her open to the advances of Jim's counterpart before they all had ended up on the _Enterprise_. Which gave them enough of a prior relationship to make it too awkward for the Ambassador to make a move on her. Man, this alternate timeline stuff was crazy shit, but yeah, he got it -- nothing that had once happened had to happen again. It was a whole new universe and a whole new life. He smiled, the sudden relief almost making him dizzy. "I really won't ever be with Spock."

"Given the circumstances, it is highly unlikely," the Ambassador agreed without any sign of regret. "But am I correct in assuming you have made the first steps toward becoming friends?"

Jim gave it a moment's thought, and found he no longer felt the need to deny the idea. "I think so." He smiled. "At least we don't hate each other anymore." Then his smile faded, remembering his encounter with Spock yesterday afternoon. "But that may be all there is. He's thinking about resigning from Starfleet to go with the other Vulcan survivors."

"A logical decision, but perhaps I can persuade him to see a different perspective."

 _Depends on how you define winning._ He wondered if Spock would be as susceptible to the same basic argument that had sent them crashing into each other's lives. He hoped so. But if not, he knew they would both be all right despite the loss of the future the Ambassador had shown him. Spock would take the path he felt he must, and Jim would have Bones. Jim raised his hand in the Vulcan salute and said, "Good luck with that."

It earned him the Vulcan equivalent of a grin.

*

Leonard approved yet another prescription for a sleep aid and added a recommendation for grief-counseling to the patient's file. He sighed heavily, then rubbed his tired, gritty eyes. They'd lost so many to death, but it hadn't stopped there. In the last few weeks he'd encountered at least thirty cadets who he doubted would ever recover emotionally. Friends, lovers, relatives, even arch enemies who had at least brought the odd comfort of always being there, gone in an instant. It was a lot to handle. Hell, it was almost more than he could deal with, and he'd been lucky. Everyone he'd really cared about had been aboard _Enterprise_ , but that didn't mean there weren't a lot of holes in his daily routine.

Then there were the Vulcans. He'd gone from basic knowledge about them to as expert as any human could ever get within a very short time, and all of it said the obvious – under all that logic was one hell of a species-wide meltdown. The mind crap they did had kept them all subtly linked, which left the survivors a mental mess with no real ability to cope with it. Sometimes you just needed to get drunk and scream at the moon. He wondered what the reaction would be if he suggested it to Federation High Command, then decided exhaustion was making him stupid.

"Dr. McCoy?"

He looked up and managed a faint smile. "Leonard," he answered. "I insist all beautiful women call me by my first name." He'd said the same thing when he'd first met Uhura three years ago and she'd complied, even told him her own first name (not that he'd ever told Jim that), but their adventure aboard _Enterprise_ had left the lingering feeling rank protocol should be followed even when it had all been temporary.

She managed the faintest of smiles, and he really did not like how tightly wound she looked, but then she had lost her roommate. "Leonard," she agreed, even looked a little relieved to have the ghost of everything brushed away. "I was wondering if you might have time to grab a cup of coffee?"

He really didn't, but he needed one if he was going to get through the rest of his shift, let alone keep his promise to Jim. Besides, she might have come to him as a friend, but he could see the doctor needed to stay on the clock. "Coffee and company. Best offer I've had all day," he answered.

As he'd expected, she didn't get to the point until they'd walked down to the cafeteria, got two cups of coffee, then sat down at a table near the back. Even then she took a few sips before she finally asked, "Kirk, he's … important to you?"

She knew about the sexual part of their friendship. He'd offered it up as a possible solution to her frustration with her own roommate's constant stream of lovers invading their room. But neither of the ladies belonged to the majority of humanoids who got involved with both sexes. A pity. Hardly anyone in the entire Academy, including him, who hadn't had at least one fantasy about Uhura and Gaila together. "Of course."

"So you'll miss him if you end up with different postings."

Ah, so this wasn't about Gaila. She'd never told him about her relationship with Spock, but given Spock was technically one of her instructors, that didn't surprise him. But it hadn't really shocked him when Jim had told him about them. "I thought both of you were assigned to _Enterprise_."

She worried her lip and her eyes dropped, but not before he saw the shimmer of tears he knew she wouldn't let spill. "He thinks he needs to go with his people."

He reached out and covered her hand with his while he took a moment to gather his thoughts. He needed to choose his words carefully because even though he was fond of her and wanted to help, he didn't like Spock. At all. The bastard had marooned Jim on an ice planet. The only reason Bones hadn't tried to kill him for that was he'd believed Jim would be safer there than on the ship. He'd thrown up a couple of times after reading Jim's report about his adventure on Delta Vega informed him how wrong he'd been about that. Somewhere out there in all the myriad of alternate realities, at least one Leonard McCoy had watched the destruction of his home world, then returned for his abandoned lover only to find him dead, the dinner of some nightmarish creature.

Bile surged, but as he kept saying, he was a doctor, and a strong stomach – at least when someone needed him – came with the job description. "Nyota," he said softly, soothing her with his voice, "did you try to convince him to stay?"

She shook her head, confirming how much she deeply loved the Vulcan. "I understand why he needs to go."

Thousands of books and movies turned on the point – if she stopped him, the regret he felt would eventually destroy them. All that aside, it was doubtful she could stop him. He couldn't see that cold-hearted bastard responding well to a plea to abandon his perceived duty for the sake of love. "You want to know how I think I would handle it if Jim and I got split up and had to go from lovers to long-distance friends?"

She nodded, and he thought that might just be the biggest indicator of how many had died. She had to turn to him and his mess of a screwed up relationship with Jim to find someone still alive to talk to.

He shook his head. "Not gonna happen. We'll end up on the same ship. We've racked up enough points with the brass to maneuver that much." Despite Jim's doubts about today's meeting, Leonard was certain of that. She started to pull her hand away, but he held on. "But one day they'll bring his broken body into my sickbay and I won't be able to save him." God, it hurt to say those words, to give voice to a fate he knew he would suffer as sure as he knew his mother's name. He gave her a sad smile. "I was in too deep before I really got that. Now I'm left with the choice of sparing myself that or hoping I'm just that much better a doctor than the next so I can keep it from happening sooner, rather than later."

She squeezed his hand, and he reminded himself he was supposed to be comforting her. "Way I see it, you've got at least one more choice than I do. Say goodbye; and we both know that fucking sucks. Go with him. Might not be as exciting as a career in space, but there'll be no shortage of important work for someone with your skills."

"But if he wants to go with his people, won't he want a Vulcan wife?"

"To contribute to the gene pool?"

She nodded.

"Leaving aside the idea of artificial wombs and donations to do the job, Spock's very existence is more a product of genetic manipulation than a medical miracle." He knew he was skating on thin ice with the confidentiality, but it really wasn't anything logic couldn't reason out.

It took a few moments, then he saw the light dawn, and some of the weariness lifted from her face. "We can adopt."

Yep, she got it without some folksy expression about a mule not needing to worry about birth control. But just to make sure she understood the full picture, he added, "If the Vulcans are to survive, they'll need every genetic combination they can make, which means more babies than parents in a culture that favors only one child per family can handle." Especially given the damaged mental state of those surviving parents. "Then there's the third option. Do both. Five-year tour on a starship, then off to New Vulcan or whatever the hell they decide to call it. Or vice versa." Not to mention the inevitable reassessments time provided. She might decide in the end to stick with Starfleet and watch him leave, but she didn't have to do it now, while everything was so fucking raw. And thank you Doctor Obvious, but sometimes people caught up in their own little dramas lost sight of things. Which was where the psych part of the doctor training came in.

She smiled brightly, squeezed his hand again, then stood. "Thank you," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Go get him, gal."

He watched her leave, and hoped they could work it out. Didn't give a damn if he never saw Spock again, but he liked Uhura and he'd said goodbye to too many friends. With a sigh, he drained the last of his coffee, dropped both their mugs in the recycle chute, then went back to work. Five hours and forty-one minutes to go.

*

Jim walked into the council room. Large enough he supposed, but it seemed cramped after it had all begun in the assembly hall. His eyes swept across their faces, but the Vulcans had nothing on Admirals in looking neutral. Or constipated. He always got those two things mixed up. Finally, his gaze fell upon an unexpected, but friendly face. Captain Christopher Pike sat at the end of the long curved table. Couldn’t see the hover chair that would be the man's companion for a time. Bones had told him that the surgery to remove the parasite had been successful, and Pike would make a complete recovery, but he had a few months before his nervous system recovered enough for him to walk again and at least a year before he stopped suffering occasional seizures. Which meant he could not command a starship. He ached for the man, but as his eyes took in the placard in front of Pike he saw that pain and suffering was worth something to Starfleet. He gave Admiral, not Captain, Pike, a nod and a quick smile.

Admiral Richard Barnett got right to it, "Cadet Kirk, thank you for coming."

As if he had a choice, but Bones always told him he had to learn to pay more attention to social niceties. And he'd learned more about that other Kirk than who he'd bedded. With the whole mess pinging away in the back of Jim's mind, Ambassador Spock's mind had accidentally given him the details. Yeah, Captain Kirk had pulled the same stunt with the _Kobayashi Maru_ simulation, but he hadn't been such an in-your-face ass about it. He'd played it straight, dealt with the hack the same way he'd handled the first two times through. Later he'd gone to the Admirals and explained what he'd done and why. He'd earned a commendation for 'imaginative thinking' instead of a tribunal for cheating. So yeah, some things were the same, but Captain Kirk had a layer of polish Jim had never bothered with and only now could he see the need for it. His encounter with the Ambassador had reminded him of all of that, and what he'd planned to say before his nerves had made him angry. "If I may, sir?"

Barnett nodded.

"I would like to apologize to all of you for my conduct during the simulation. I did understand the purpose of the test and trust I met any expectations you might have had during my first two trials," he said. "However, while I might not survive, I believe that winning is all in how you define it" He paused a second to give Pike a glance and saw the smile acknowledging he remembered their conversation. "In real life there are always options, yet, the test was designed to close down each and every one of them. I simply found one a computerized world could respect.

"However, my behavior during the test was smug, glib and disrespectful to those who labored in the test's creation. I have already apologized to each and everyone of them. As I do now, to you."

Twenty minutes later, his mind still whirling with the Admiralty's decision, Jim couldn't quite remember how he'd gotten from the building back onto the main commons, but once he had his bearings, he broke into a run.

Dodging around a group of cadets, he activated his communicator and shouted, "Bones!"

As he always did, Bones answered immediately, "Jim, what's wrong?"

"Meet me back at the room!" he demanded, deliberately doing nothing to ease the concern in his best friend's voice.

"What-?"

"Bones, _please._ "

"On my way."

Running with the same frantic speed he'd managed on Delta Vega, Jim made the fifteen minute jog in three minutes. He raced up the front steps of the dorm, down the front hall, then took the corridor to the right, not breaking his gait until he reached their door. Barely giving it enough time to open for him, he fairly dove into the room, then jerked to a stop at the sight of his roommate.

Bones stood in the center of the room, a little flushed from his own run home, his eyes wide with concern and looking … absolutely edible. "Jim-"

Any words of concern ended abruptly as Jim hurtled himself into Bones' arms and gave the doctor a hard, hungry kiss. He managed a quick, but deep exploration of the man's mouth before strong hands gripped Jim's arms, then pushed him back enough to break the kiss.

"Of all the irresponsible, childish. …" Bones began his usual rant about Jim's character flaws, but Jim didn't mind since the grip Bones had on him didn't keep him from unfastening the cadet tunic hiding his roommate's muscular chest. His hands skimming over warm flesh, Jim surged forward to capture the lips berating him in another kiss.

His whole body fairly vibrating with need, he murmured, "Fuck me."

Bones pushed him back again. "Damnit, Jim!"

"They gave me _Enterprise_ ," he whispered, the words almost slurred beneath the weight of the truth of them. He'd left this room a cadet and had returned the captain of Starfleet's flagship.

Anger gave way to astonishment. "They what?"

"The Captain of the _USS Enterprise_ wants you to fuck him," he breathed against the join of neck and shoulder, a hotspot guaranteed to get Bones wound up.

A moment of utter stillness worried Jim, and he almost moved back to ask what was wrong. But then Bones growled and got them both naked with a swift efficiency that amazed even Jim's well-practiced hands. Still pliable from a marathon of 'hey, we're alive and saved the Earth' sex, it took only moments for Bones to get him ready, then push smoothly into Jim's body.

Wild for a hard, fast fuck, Jim clutched at him, begging, demanding, but each plea only earned him long, lingering kisses, and a slow, deep taking that left him a raw, trembling nerve. "Please," he whimpered, his eyes leaking from the strain.

"Shhh," Bones murmured, kissing the tears away, "it's all right."

It would be, if he would just fuck him so hard Jim couldn't think, couldn't feel anything but the near pain of a rough coupling. Instead Bones seemed determined to make him feel … everything. It went on forever, but could never last long enough. Jim screamed in a release that had as much to do with agony as bliss.

Shivering, he tried to get his limbs to let go of Bones, to release him to the inevitable demand to return to work now that his sex-addict roommate had gotten off. But Bones kept hold of him while doing the time-honored dance of contortions needed to get two sated bodies under the covers and away from the wet spot.

"It's okay, Jim," he whispered. "I've got you. Just get some sleep."

He felt so tired and warmth began to seep into him. Always felt like this, all snug and cozy, in Bones' bed. Again a thought tugged at him and an old enemy tried to loom up and overwhelm him again, but the soft murmur of Bones' voice, the gentle caress of his thumb across Jim's shoulder chased it away. And Jim slept.

*

For a little more than an hour, Leonard held Jim. He kept his own thoughts calm, knowing Jim was such a light sleeper that if he tensed, Jim would wake up and he'd earned a good nap. So had Leonard, but tired as he was, he couldn't drift off. No way he could keep himself that calm.

Jim shifted once, then a second time, and Leonard could feel him wake up. Neither of them said anything for a time, but finally Jim broke the silence. "I get to choose my staff," he said. Nice, neutral banality – captains always got to pick their staff.

Leonard didn't call him on it. "Uh huh."

"You'll be my chief medical officer?"

The moment of choice had arrived. But then again there never really had been much of one. "Of course," he answered, then pressed a kiss to Jim's shoulder as he silently promised them both to keep the damned fool alive for many years to come.

"I'm … going to keep us all together." Scotty, Sulu, Chekov, Uhura, Spock – one desperate mission together and it had become unthinkable to set foot on the ship without them. Jim would know Spock might not be available, and Leonard decided against telling him about Uhura. They'd deal with that when she reached the other side of her own moment of choice.

"Be a good crew." Another supportive, yet oh, so neutral response.

Leonard let the next long silence alone. He could do supportive, but if he started talking, things would get around to subjects he knew Jim couldn't talk about. Leonard didn't like it, didn't approve of it, but it was part of the package deal, so he'd accepted it a long time ago.

"Guess I should let them know the news before the official announcement."

"Which is?"

"In the morning. They'll do the actual ceremony after graduation."

Silence again. But there was supportive and there was making things easy for Jim that shouldn't be easy. Leonard had decided a ways back not to cross that line, so he let Jim twist in the wind. He could hear the mental squirming even if the kid never moved a muscle.

It built up like a tsunami, the wave growing higher and higher until it finally …

Jim sat up. "So I guess I better make those calls."

… fell flat on its watery ass and left the fish laughing at it. "Yeah, I should get back to the hospital before they send out a search party."

He got out of bed and hit the refresher because his mama had raised him better than to go out in public reeking of frantic sex. But it was appropriate enough to be damned tempting. He yanked on a fresh uniform Jim had laid out for him. He'd even tossed their wrinkled ones into the laundry chute.

Knowing their plans for this evening would die an awkward death as Jim went on a 'fuck anything that moves, but wasn't his roommate' binge to get over today's little episode, he simple said a non-committal, "See you later."

Jim nodded in answer and made a show of fussing with his communicator.

Right. Leonard calmly walked out the door, then out of the dorm. Once outside, he let the anger boil up. He turned away from the hospital, and set out for the space port. He'd seen enough Vulcan patients today to know when the shuttles were leaving to set up the new settlement, and he had no doubts about who he would find there.

He felt a moment of smug satisfaction when he entered the shuttle bay and found the two pointy-eared banes of his existence doing the damned four-fingered salute. Well, he had a few thoughts about what they could do with their 'live long and prosper' and how sad for them he was in the mood to share. "I want a word with you, you cold-blooded hobgoblin!" he snapped, stalking toward them.

"Doctor McCoy," Spock said, "I do not believe –"

"Not you!" he growled, "The other one!"

Ambassador Spock – some goddamned fool in command had started calling him Spock Prime as if that weren't an insult to their entire existence, but Leonard wasn't in the mood to grant him his title so it would do – gave Non-Prime Hobgoblin a nod that sent him on his way. Leonard was tempted to get him to teach him that trick, but decided, he'd rather just kill them both and be done with it. "Doctor McCoy, how nice to –"

"Don't start with that 'see you again' shit! We've never met and we're not pretending we have!"

The eyebrow went up, but he noted with satisfaction that he could make his own go higher. Human, 1; Hobgoblin, 0.

"As you wish," he answered, and Leonard got the distinct impression he was being managed. "Was there something you wished to discuss?"

Did this crap work on McCoy Prime? Had to be one wimpassed universe if it had. "Yeah, are you out of your Vulcan mind?" He liked the sound of that phrase. Fit so many occasions.

He got this long-suffering look on his face. Ah ha! So McCoy Prime didn't get managed either. "Specify."

The temptation to shove a phaser where the sun never shined rose up in him, but he couldn’t figure a way around his Hippocratic Oath to justify it. Unless 'treat of death by aggravation' counted. Probably not. "First you come damned close to mind-rape, then you convince Starfleet to make a cadet captain of the fucking _Enterprise_!"

Spock Prime opened his mouth, but Leonard cut him off again, "And don't even try to tell me they came up with the idea on their own. Commendation, command staff, fast track for promotion, even a posting as first officer – all of that, yes, but they wouldn't have given him a ship if you hadn't gone in there and done your 'it's his fucking destiny' shit."

"Interesting. I do not recall your counterpart ever swearing as much as you do."

Leonard narrowed his eyes. "How old was your Kirk when he became captain?"

"Thirty-two, the youngest to ever command a starship."

"Well, fucking great for him," this time the swearing was deliberate instead of instinct. "Jim is twenty-five. He hasn't done any of the shit that happened in the seven years yours had to prepare him for this command!" Emotionally put, swearing present, but the logic was solid and undeniable.

Spock Prime hesitated answering long enough to telegraph he'd discounted that. A less violent sign of this version of Spock's emotional compromise. "He is essentially the same man, and I believe he is up to the task."

"Fuck you and the ship you came in on," he snarled. "He's not the same man!"

"You do not trust him." The tone held something that Leonard would have labeled smug and superior in a human.

His fists clenched. "I trust him with my fucking life! I trust him with the lives of every single soul in this goddamned universe!" he answered, his own voice low and dangerous. "What I don't trust is his ability to keep himself alive!"

Spock Prime looked flat out startled. "Jim typically assumed as much of the risk as he could, but-"

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up!" Another growl instead of the shout he wanted, but couldn't risk drawing a crowd. "He is not _your_ Jim Kirk!" He knew Spock Prime must have read Jim's file, but not everything was in there. It amazed Leonard how easily Jim had maneuvered his way through the battery of psych tests without any of this popping up. "He's damaged in ways you can't understand. It has left him with utterly no self-worth hiding behind a huge ego that demands he prove he's the best at everything he does while screaming 'look, look, see what I can do!' as he does one stupid stunt after another. And you just handed him the biggest fucking stage in the universe to play on before I had the chance to convince him he had someone to live for!"

A long pause, then, "Is it your wish that I ask Starfleet to reconsider his promotion?"

The very idea horrified Leonard, and he sputtered, "God, no! That would kill him!"

"Then I fail to see your purpose in coming here."

He stepped close. "I came to make you a promise." His voice dropped to a low enough whisper that not even a full-blooded Vulcan standing near them could overhear. "The day I fail to save him, you better pray I die, too, because, if I don't, I will fucking hunt you down and kill you."

Spock Prime nodded his acknowledgment as calmly as if Leonard had asked if he wanted an aspirin. All in all it made for an extremely unsatisfying moment.

Furious with himself and the whole fucking universe, he turned to go, but, "Doctor McCoy."

"What?" he asked, not bothering to turn back around.

"While your counterpart and I had many differences, we were good friends of a fashion. I trust your opinion of me will not influence your dealings with your Spock."

He turned. "I am not the one who has the problem with seeing different times make different people." Which might be giving himself more credit than he deserved in the 'not holding the grudge' category, but he already disliked Spock anyway. "And one other thing," he said, stalking back over to Spock Prime. "Fuck Hippocrates and fuck the horse he rode in on." 

The punch hurt his hand more than the Vulcan's face, but damn it felt good.

*

James T. Kirk absolutely, positively believed in the no-win scenario. Yes, he'd come a long way from the repeat-offender Pike had met in that bar three years ago. He'd gone on to learn how to redefine the scenario enough to make a new life for himself, and for that he would always be grateful to Pike, but nothing Jim had ever seen or done had convinced him it didn't exist.

Enemies could be out thought or out fought. Forces of nature could be compensated for. But not this. It had murdered his father and destroyed his mother, and Jim lived in terror of it. 

So he'd gone through his life wrapped in every shield he could think of against it. Indifference, rage, lovely ladies and hard male bodies, anything to push it away. But it had slipped through his every defense.

He stared at the small communicator in his hand, but he couldn't really see it. Bones had been acting so strangely that he'd set Bones' communicator to broadcast to his. He'd heard every word said between doctor and ambassador, heard the smack of flesh against flesh, then the satisfied grunt of pain. Every sound had been like a dagger clawing at Jim until he had nothing left.

"My god, Jim?" The disembodied voice broke the silence. Guess Bones had discovered his tampering job. Jim had known he would the first time he tried to contact anyone. He'd even looked forward to Bones yelling at him over it.

"Come home," he answered, amazed at how calm he sounded.

A few beats of silence, then a subdued, "On my way."

He sat on the bed, and, to pass the time, he began listing all the shields he'd used. Gaila had been the most recent. Who was before her? He'd gone through more than a hundred names before the door slid open. Bones stepped inside the room and stopped. He looked terrified. And pale. Except for the bruised knuckles of his right hand. Jim had never seen such a sight in his life. God.

Shields down, weapons depleted, enemy closing in – all Jim could do was surrender and pray. "I look like my father," he said, his voice soft, but pitched loud enough he knew Bones could hear. "But I always knew I would love like my mother." Absolutely, completely, for all time, and damned the consequences.

"Jim. …"

He trembled with the effort, felt sweat trickle down his back, but he forced the words out. "I love you. I don't ever want anyone but you to touch me ever again. I love you. I love you. I love you. I-"

Bones pulled him into his arms, then cut off his chant with a deep kiss that wounded them both. "I'm sorry," he said, pulling back enough that he could guide Jim's head to rest on Bones' shoulder. "I didn't want to force you to know it. I'm sorry." He was rocking, trying to soothe them both in a comforting rhythm every parent granted a child, but that Jim had never known. "So sorry."

He clung to Bones. Needing him, amazed part of him couldn't manage to hate. He'd listened to Bones ripping a Vulcan Ambassador from another timeline a new one, and it had hit him so hard he'd forgotten how to breath -- Bones loved him. He'd known it all along, but to acknowledge it was to admit he loved Bones, too. It hurt. He'd tried so hard for so long not to feel this way. It hurt. He pushed his mouth against Bones' neck and moaned his anguish, although to his ears it sounded far too much like a whimper.

Bones found a way to hold him tighter as the tears came, and he gave himself over to the storm. He sobbed for the father he never knew; for the mother he should have had, but who couldn't find a way to heal enough to show him love; for every lonely, self-pitying, self-destructive thing he'd ever done. When he finally finished, he lifted his head to discover them both sticky with each other's tears and that daylight had long faded into night.

"Jim," Bones whispered, his voice hoarse from crying.

His own words held a matching scratch, "Yeah?"

"I love you. So fucking much."

He managed to smile against Bones' neck. "I heard." One thing he was less sure of though. "Think I'll be a good captain?"

Bones hugged him. "I think you'll be the greatest captain in the history of Starfleet. The one every captain before and after you is compared to."

"Yeah?"

Lips brushed his forehead. "You just have to stay alive long enough to do it."

This time he did the hugging. "I will. I'll fight to stay alive as long as you do." After that, well, maybe it was the easy way out, but he wasn't going through the slow, walking death his mother had perfected.

"Okay then."

He opened his mouth to ask Bones to move into the captain's quarters with him, but what came out was, "We're getting married, right?"

Bones chuckled, a watery sound that made Jim shift to start kissing away the tears. "Yes, tomorrow."

"Okay then."

No computer could ever simulate a true no-win scenario. Such a thing existed not in events, but in the minds of those caught up in it. A true one offered no escape, no release and surrender only sucked one deeper in. The trick to survival was not only learning to live with it, but to enjoy it. So they did what they had to -- they held each other all night long and found their course.

The next day the command crew of the _USS Enterprise_ assembled to witness the marriage of Captain James T. Kirk and Doctor Leonard McCoy. Both wore their dress uniforms and exchanged rings of platinum laced with gold. Inside each ring was a matching inscription -- _Kobayashi Maru: Bring it on._

end


End file.
